


Oak, Ash, and Thorn

by raven_aorla



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, F/M, Hermann Values Newt's Opposition, Lawful Neutral is Not Nice, M/M, Not Really That Sane, Sort of Consensual, Sort of Safe, Thralls Are Boring, Vampires Secretly Run the PPDC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/pseuds/raven_aorla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt shares a lab with a mathematician who debates with him, screams at him, sometimes throws things at him, and vice versa. Anyone who knew Hermann was actually a centuries-old vampire with no hesitations against killing - beyond the practical limitations of getting away with it and being hampered by a hexed leg - might think constantly fighting with him was a tad reckless.</p><p>Hermann needs an opponent to battle wits with, though. Even more than he needs people to feed on, which he still does with Newt on a regular basis, but he gives Newt cookies afterwards and time to recover, and lets him keep his mind. Most of the others, even the ones actively allied with humans against the Kaiju, wouldn't give him such a good deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [When Everything Dies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075662) by [Sonora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonora/pseuds/Sonora). 



> Characters, setting, and even AU not mine.
> 
> The vampire!AU in question, in which ancient-style vampires have allied with humans to fight the kaiju but only a few humans actually know this, is the brainchild(e) of Sonora. The fic linked above is magnificent and Herc/Chuck in focus (they are not biologically father and son but Herc sired Chuck). Dark and bloody and magnificent.
> 
> This fic is inspired by these particular passages:
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> Herc growled and got in front of that. “Just tell me what you know about his condition.”
> 
>  
> 
> _“Ranger Hansen, I’m sure you understand, I can’t just...” and the bloke’s mouth pinched. “Marshall, if we could just talk about this in private...”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“You’re talking to Chuck’s sire, Doctor Geiszler, he can take it from here,” Stacker said wearily, and nodded at Herc. “You can trust him, Herc. He’s been advising on Sevier’s case.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The doctors - Geiszler’s - expression went from worried to - of all things - excited. “You... you’re a vampire too, Hansen? Oh my god, this is awesome, I mean, your kind is like... fuck, sir, I’ve got so many questions about... like, do you think I could...”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Herc grabbed the doctor, hand around his throat, and bodily slammed him back into the nearest wall. “Just tell me what’s going on with my childe.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The doctor swallowed, cast one more look over Herc’s shoulder at Pentecost, and started talking._
> 
>  
> 
> And:
> 
>  
> 
> _Caitlin’s old lab partner - some German vampire she’d befriended back in the 1600s, body mangled, cursed by ancient magic, and as obsessive as Herc had ever seen one of their kind come - had been sending Herc frantic emails for the better part of the day._
> 
>  
> 
> _Gottlieb. He was the last of the research department Herc had bothered to keep around. Only one Herc needed. The war was going to be run by vampires, and he had no patience for human academics, who prattled on about their specialties as if it fucking meant something. The Enlightenment had been a terribly painful thing to live through._
> 
>  
> 
> And:
> 
>  
> 
> _...Herc was screaming at Gottlieb to shut up as he hypno’ed Geiszler out of a coma._
> 
>  
> 
> _Three hours later, Herc was sending Geiszler out to pay a visit to Hannibal Chau, with a card that invited Chau to take as much blood as he liked, as long as Geiszler was left living long enough to bring back the necessary intelligence from the drift._
> 
>  
> 
> _“He is mine, you know,” Gottlieb growled in Low Germanic._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Then you would do well to follow him now, or claim him better in the future,” Herc said, and slammed a compulsion so hard into Geiszler’s brain that there was no chance of disobedience._
> 
>  
> 
> The characters, original setting, etc are not mine either. Just playing with them for my amusement and, hopefully, yours too.

 

Some people would be disheartened to meet someone that you had become friends with - well, okay, developed a crush on strong enough to pulverize metaphorical diamonds more like - over extensive correspondence, if you then start bickering within the first afternoon in each others’ presence. But everyone had issues with Dr. Gottlieb. Everyone in K-Science were unnerved by his drive to work constantly, first in the lab each morning and last out at night, rarely stopping at lunchtime and then only to retreat to his quarters for a while. His abrasive, haughty personality turned this uneasiness into resentment. If his intellect and experience weren’t so vital to fighting the kaiju some of the more disgruntled junior researchers would have thrown him into the ocean.

 

Dr. Newton “but seriously call me Newt, man, I told you” Geizsler seemed to be the only one to shout right back at him, though. Whether he turned out to be right or not he demanded evidence, he pushed back, he did not back down until the data justified it. He knew he was a little guy, always the youngest in his surroundings and always the first to be picked on, so he made up for it both in volume and for having the things he were yelling about to be goddamn brilliant.

 

This earned the senior mathematician’s respect, in the sense that if Gottlieb absolutely had to deal with another living being he would interact with Newt, and in the sense that Newt became the only person allowed to do things like carry bulky parcels Gottlieb couldn’t manage while also walking with his cane. When Gottlieb said things like, “I suppose you did manage to identify a detail I overlooked…” he said it quietly, reluctantly, but he looked at Newt like life was that little bit less tedious for it.

 

Newt’s confrontational nature didn’t work very well with anyone else, though, as demonstrated yet again during a New Year’s Eve ‘dome mixer that first weird winter-summer in Australia. Military types didn’t take criticism from a twentysomething runt very well and he restrained himself. Usually. But everyone had insisted that everyone have at least one jaeger shot because hahaha that didn’t get old after the second successful battle of the war, no way. And there wasn’t room to dance and nobody was responding to his flirtations so what else was there to do but knock back a few more?

 

He was being kicked in the face in a stairwell when he thought, oh right, this is why I don’t get drunk in public. This ‘roid-raging Cro-Magnon who didn’t like what Newt had said about most Rangers being a cross between prima donnas and high school jock stereotypes didn’t seem to grasp the irony of beating up the geek who hurt his feelings. Whatever. Newt was going to stay curled into a ball and try to remember the lyrics to all the songs in Repo: the Genetic Opera. It’d be satisfying to get the guy fired later.

 

Except Gottlieb showed up, right out of nowhere, all nyoom and looking like a grouchy headmaster considering a new career in serial killing. He didn’t give Roid Rage Ranger any warning or anything. From the little square of vision peeking out from behind his fingers Newt saw Gottlieb yank the man backwards by the dogtags, nearly tipping him to the floor as if being swung on a fulcrum, and just as suddenly snap the dude’s neck. With one hand. Since the other was busy holding the cane that kept his scrawny wraith of an apparently-superpowered colleague upright.

 

Newt wasn’t sure whether he was going to scream or sob or lose his lunch first, but Gottlieb paused and fixed his eyes on him, pinning him, freezing him. “Go to sleep for now, Newton,” he murmured, low and soft but no less insistent for that. “I’ll need all his blood before I can spare any of mine for you.”

 

Huh? What? “You’re...what kinda mojo...there’ssss…” Drowsiness was tugging him down but he fought it because he needed to know. Questions and answers were more important than letting the unexpected calm silence him.

 

Raising an eyebrow, Gottlieb said in a more normal tone of voice, “Interesting. Despite your pluck I must insist. I’m not here to harm you. Sleep.”

 

\----

“Wake up; we need to hurry.”

 

Newt jerked upright, and even with his headache and swellings and what might have been a wiggly tooth he was perceptive enough to notice that he wasn’t where he’d passed out. In fact he was scrunched in a darkened space with Gottlieb’s red-spattered hand tugging him into the light again. “Am I - did you put me in a supply closet?”

 

“The others would not take kindly to me exposing us to the general population,” Gottlieb muttered, depositing Newt in a wheeled office chair and pulling Newt after him with the hand not gripping his cane. Newt felt like a puppy being hauled on one of those little red wagons. Like Calvin pulled Hobbes in. Though he’s totally Calvin, not Hobbes, as in the kid and not the theologian, though he’s not so much for Thomas Hobbes’ “nasty, brutish, and short” thing. Though when Newt hasn’t had his coffee he might fall under that category…

 

“If this is what your inner monologue is like both concussed and hypno’d I am very glad I’ve never examined your scurrying anthill of a mind before,” said Gottlieb - Hermann, might as well call him Hermann since the guy did break someone’s neck for him, it seems only polite.

 

Wait.

 

Newt thought he might throw up. Or laugh. Or cry. Or throw up while laughing and producing tears simultaneously. “You killed someone!”

 

Hermann sighed. “Yes, yes, let’s focus on the inanities shall we? Just my luck that someone whose health and sanity I actually want to preserve is one of the unusually resilient.” It didn’t seem likely that they’d reach Hermann’s quarters so quickly, but then Newt didn’t know which of the many closets along that corridor Hermann had stashed him for safekeeping. He vaguely felt there was a joke in there somewhere but SO very not the time.

 

Door open, both of them in, door shut. How was Hermann just shoving him onto the bed - Spartan-neat, sheets like they were laminated into place, the one thin pillow with no crease or dent to suggest any solid object other than Newt’s head right now had ever lain on it - how, how with the cane hooked over the chair, was it Hermann’s chair? Hermann had red on his hands and at the corner of his mouth, shit, that’s blood, Hermann’s a vampire isn’t he, a real one…

 

“You need to breathe, Newton, if I’m going to be of any help to you.”

 

Arms around him, tight but not crushing, he’s not yelling is that good if he’s not yelling but he didn’t yell at Roid Rage Ranger either, just killed him cold and quiet, what is this, what, dizzy oh god, “I’m sorry about yelling at you those times, oh god, please, please I didn’t even get to see the last season of Adventure Time!”

 

The grip shifted, still firm but more of an embrace than a taloned clutch, and Newt must have lost his glasses at some point because Hermann was forehead-to-forehead with him and looking into his eyes. “ _Akeran,_ I am not your death.”

 

Then the freaking-out part of Newt’s mind stepped out to be an observer, narrating in an interested but unattached way like in one of those BBC Documentaries. Complete with Received Pronunciation accent because why the hell not. Here in the previously unseen lair of the Dr. Hermann Gottlieb the mathematician has revealed his vampiric nature. Watch closely as he presses his quarry - it is as yet unclear whether said quarry falls under “prey” or “mate” or some unholy combination of the two - against a wall and forces him to imbibe the vampiric ichor. Even as this process begins we see the blunt force trauma wounds sustained by Dr. Newton Geizsler fade away in a fascinating and seemingly impossible manner, at the mere cost of synapse-overloading surprise and the lingering but not actually awful taste of soy sauce with nutmeg and a little cayenne.

 

“You are the oddest little thing,” Hermann said as he pulled his wrist away, the slit he had made with his own fangs fading in seconds.

 

Newt wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Um, consider the irony from my perspective?”

 

This was the first time Newt ever saw Hermann approximate a smile. It was more of a brief and partial lip-twitch, and given the stains Newt really should be more alarmed about it shouldn’t have been so pleasant, but in some ways this moment felt more human than any of the deception beforehand.

 


	2. Chapter 2

As time and Hermann’s disposition permitted Newt eventually came to learn more about Hermann’s past and present. He was born in the Duchy of Saxony under the reign of Charlemagne in what would one day be part of Germany, in what was most likely the year 890 but impossible to say for sure. A Viking raid when he was twelve separated him from anyone he had ever known and he was sold as a slave. When his first master died in what was thought a violent accident Hermann was resold, and when that second master died in what looked like an even more violent and painful accident Hermann was resold again. Hermann’s carefully arranged “accidents” sadly did not gain him freedom, though there was some satisfaction in the revenge. His third and final buyer was unmarried hunter named Lars, whom it was said had a curse upon him.

“Suffice to say that he did,” is what Hermann replied when Newt asked for more details. “He may be my sire and registered as my father under the current mortal laws, but I don’t want you meeting him, and if he attempts to contact you I want you to tell me.”

By now Newt knew that when Hermann said he wanted Newt to do something this meant that if Newt didn’t do it he would be mind-whammied into doing it anyway. Which was kind of annoying. But on the other hand Hermann didn’t mess with his head when they argued about science and didn’t punish him for insults - once he got over being scared this would lead to his dismemberment - and he did have to concede he didn’t know anything about how the whole vampire politics actually worked. 

That first time was a...fluid exchange...Newt asked if he was going to become a vampire. Hermann nonchalantly tidied Newt’s hair while responding. “Not unless I drained you nearly to death first. Which isn’t necessary. For one thing I don’t have the best record producing childer and I really don’t have the time to train one up with all the other work I have to do. Enthralling you would make you unable to oppose me intellectually, which is what I value in our working relationship, so beyond the compulsion I gave you to not reveal any of this to others without my permission I’m content with sustainable long-term feeding. And letting you have your own will.”

You’d think Newt would have objections towards being Hermann’s pantry or whatever the best analogy would be, but even without being allowed to analyze Hermann’s saliva he could tell there were some kind of opiates along with what had to be anticoagulants and anesthetics, and quite possibly aphrodisiacs as well. Otherwise it wouldn’t make sense for him to be that enthused to crawl into Hermann’s lap, with a mound of blankets to support Hermann’s bad leg of course, and let the guy have him in every sense of the word. It was better than the relationships Newt had cultivated with various dealers in his misspent youth. No side effects. More controlled circumstances. It went towards keeping a valuable colleague at maximum productivity. And to replenish everything Newt was giving up, Hermann gave Newt the best parts of all the food rations Hermann was entitled to but for obvious reasons did not need. 

“What do you do with the food you’re supposed to be getting but aren’t giving to me?” Newt once asked around a mouthful of sugar cookie. They had a Monday - Wednesday - Friday schedule and Newt slept in his own bed on the other nights, to recover. Since Newt didn’t seem to gain any weight even after months of extra treats it must be vital in maintaining his strength, which seemed top priority for Hermann. The few times Hermann ever “hypno’d” him into doing something it was things like getting some sleep or taking a shower or having a glass of water after unwittingly dehydrating himself. 

Hermann lay semi-curled around Newt as if to take advantage of his body heat, and absently rubbing his leg like he did when it was bothering him more than usual. “I give it to those I feed on when it’s your night off. Don’t bother asking whom; I don’t remember their names and I make sure they remember nothing.”

“Huh. Is that, like, standard?” Some of Newt’s blankets and pillows had migrated to Hermann’s quarters for the sake of aftercare. They’d had sex without the other part a few times but Newt didn’t enjoy it as much and Hermann had trouble not turning it into something else, so all aftercare did double duty. Hermann would clean them both up, give Newt something to eat and drink, they would chat for a while, Newt would go to the bathroom and brush his teeth, and Hermann would pull him into bed and wrap his arms around him and call him that odd pet name he never translated. 

“No, akeran, it’s not,” Hermann said. “If I’m going to be able to continue my work it behooves me to refrain from killing anyone, as much as I can stand to in any case.”

Newt was going to say that wasn’t what he meant, but Hermann raised an eyebrow at him before he even said anything. So instead he asked, “If you were around during the Enlightenment and stuff, did you meet anyone cool?”

“I told Sir Isaac his dabblings in the occult were tiresome and amateur and I’d let him go if he promised to focus more on this mathematics.” Hermann could totally brag while making it sound like he didn’t care about the bragging-thing. Like he thought you were childish for being impressed. Messed-up as it was, Newt kind of dug that. Not like a mindslave way. He’d always wanted to impress people and it was hot when other people could act like they didn’t need the praise they deserved.

Besides, intimidating Isaac Newton. Wow. “I’d love to hear more details later but sexy, thinking of you putting the fear of Gottlieb into people.”

Hermann’s facial expression wasn’t really obvious in the low light when Newt wasn’t wearing his glasses, but he gently scritched at Newt’s scalp, voice growing distant. “I was more imposing at the time. This was a few years before a woman with a much better grasp of the occult tried to kill me with a spell and maimed me instead. Which was more than any other mortal had managed. I would have retaliated, but I never had the opportunity, and at least it was less humiliating to have been outsmarted rather than outmatched.” 

Newt licked icing off one of his fingers. His latest scabs were itching a little but it didn’t hurt as much as the skin healing over a tattoo, and Hermann was always considerate about not biting him there. “If I was a vampire too I wouldn’t let anyone give you crap about your leg. I haven’t been interacting with any of the other ones here by accident, have I?”

“If I changed you now there is no chance it would go unnoticed, and you wouldn’t be able to sit for another of your kaiju designs without attacking the artist out of instinct.” He wrapped an arm around Newt’s torso. “It would violate the...etiquette...of the situation to answer that question. But they know you’re mine. Even if they were such idiots as to risk losing your contributions to the research team they know you are mine, and I am old, and I am patient and focused in a way they cannot match.”

Newt lay down properly and buried his face against Hermann’s surprisingly well-muscled chest, though some of the musculature was lopsided from centuries of using a cane, and said, “Okay, so if you ever decide to go all the way sometime just let me know first, yeah? I want a last meal before food loses its meaning.”

Making Hermann laugh felt like victory.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not translating "akeran" because Newt doesn't know what it means yet.
> 
> eta: As of 2016, am translating it upon request, as I am unlikely to continue this. :( It means "acorn".


End file.
